


A Light Supper

by aljohnson



Series: "We're all alone" [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Desire, F/M, Romance, Supper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a few people were kind enough to ask for a follow up to my previous MFMM fic "The Noble Thing", here is the tale of the night after the kissing on the pavement the evening before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cocktails before Supper

**Author's Note:**

> This is Chapter One. There will be at least one more, possibly two. This contains more fluff than I had been intending, but apparently the deepening attraction between Jack and Phryne couldn't be reigned in until after Supper!
> 
> Also, I am terrible at describing Phryne's clothes (I am more befuddled by fashion than Jack in 'Murder a la mode'). 
> 
> Rated T for caution.

Jack had found himself distracted at odd moments during the day, trying to decide what, if anything, he should take with him for the ‘light supper’ he was to enjoy with Phryne later. Well, he hoped it would be enjoyable. You never could be sure, with Phryne, how things would turn out. Sitting at his desk, hurriedly eating a sandwich at lunchtime as he perused some case papers, his mind considered the possibilities. He could take wine, but Phryne could easily acquire any wine she wished, and at a considerably higher budget than he had available. He could take flowers, but that felt, somehow, predictable. And predictable was something he was trying very hard to avoid. Chocolates, he had learnt during his marriage, were a double-edged sword, and, he felt, therefore best avoided. Anything else was either too intimate, or too expensive, or both, and so Jack decided that his presence would have to suffice. 

Six o’clock rolled around tortuously slowly, and Jack was grateful to close his files, stack the papers on his desk, pull on his overcoat and leave. If any of the desk officers noticed Jack uncharacteristically leaving on time, they were wise enough not to say anything. Constable Collins had been studiously avoiding saying anything at all about the fact that his boss had had a spring in his step all day. Collins recognised that he was a novice in the field of detection, but he had also seen Miss Fisher slip out of her front door last night, just after he had heard the Inspector leaving. He had also seen her quietly re-enter the house less than ten minutes later, looking somewhat flushed, a look he recognised from when he kissed his Dottie. He didn’t think that either his boss or Miss Fisher had even realised he was still in her house. Collins had decided that discretion was the best course of action on this occasion, and had kept out of Jack’s way for much of the day. But now he couldn’t help himself, “Good Night Sir” he called from his position behind the desk.  
“Good Night Collins” said Jack, nodding slightly at the young constable as he strode purposefully out of the front door of the Station. 

*******************************************************************************************************

The sharp shrill of the doorbell penetrated the silence of the hallway. Phryne had considered putting a record on the gramophone, or turning the wireless on, but she had instead found herself daydreaming, and had quite forgotten the time. 

Phryne had, somewhat uncharacteristically, been ready for some thirty minutes, and had shoe-horned Dot out of the door, clutching two hastily bought tickets for The State Theatre, which Phryne had dispatched Bert and Cec to obtain earlier that day. Phryne calculated that by the time Hugh and Dot had seen the show, caught the tram back to St Kilda and been for a walk along the seafront, it would be late enough that Dot would retire to her room immediately. 

Phryne had indicated to Dot that she was expecting company for Supper, but had been deliberately vague as to who her company was to be. She felt no shame or embarrassment about inviting Jack round, but she also knew that Jack favoured discretion. Phryne assessed that for all of Dot’s usual subtlety, that the chances of her not relating this information to Hugh would be minimal. And Hugh was woefully unable to keep anything secret. No, in this case, Phryne thought, tell Dot as little as possible. And anyway, what exactly was there to tell? Where did she and Jack stand now? What did he expect? What did she want? What did he want? Phryne knew she cared deeply for Jack, and her desire for him was becoming overwhelming, but beyond that, she had nothing but uncertainty.

Phryne heard Mr Butler opening the door. She could picture the scene, had witnessed it previously innumerable times. She rose from the arm chair near to the fire and turned to the hallway. Jack was wearing a heavy dark overcoat, a change from his usual light brown garment. The darkness drew out the blue of Jack’s eyes, seeming to make them more piercing than usual. Phryne leaned against the door frame, watching as Mr Butler relieved Jack of the heavy overcoat and his matching hat, also a shade darker than usual. As Jack turned away from Mr Butler, he noticed Phryne for the first time. Jack had chosen a dark three piece suit for the occasion, and somehow Phryne had managed to pick a complimentary outfit of Black Flared Trousers and a white blouse with a bow wrap at the collar. This had been a deliberate ploy on Phryne’s part: wearing something subtle and understated. 

Jack smiled at Phryne and she smiled back. Mr Butler had already discretely withdrawn to the Kitchen to finalise the preparation of some truly divine cocktails which he had been reserving for a special occasion. Tobias Butler felt this was just such an evening. In the hallway Jack moved slowly towards Phryne, his smile staying wide and bright. As he reached her side, Jack leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Phryne’s cheek. 

“Good Evening, Phryne” he whispered, sending a shiver down Phryne’s spine. 

“Good Evening, Jack” replied Phryne, raising her hand and lightly running her fingers down Jack’s cheek. Her hand trailed along Jack’s shoulder and down his arm, resting gently in his hand, “come into the Parlour, Jack”. Phryne pulled lightly on Jack’s hand, walking slowly backwards, before turning and quickly considering her options. Deciding that the evening had already got off to a much more positive start than she had anticipated, she made for the Chaise, positioning herself nearest the fire and gently encouraging Jack to sit next to her. 

Mr Butler discreetly appeared in the doorway, a low cough announcing his presence, “A cocktail Miss, Sir?” enquired Mr Butler, proffering a small silver serving tray with two glasses on it. The glasses contained a mixture which was a burnt amber in colour. Phryne had learnt long ago not to question the contents, but to rely on Mr Butler’s superb taste in such matters. 

“Thank you Mr Butler” said Phryne, reaching out for a glass. Mr Butler turned slightly and offered the tray to Jack, who somewhat cautiously removed the remaining glass.

“Thank you” he said, wondering what the drink might contain.

“Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes, Miss” 

“Thank you Mr B.” said Phryne, not taking her eyes from Jack. Mr Butler bowed his head slightly and withdrew to the Kitchen. He and Miss Fisher had plotted Supper carefully, and Mr Butler hoped the evening would proceed as Miss Fisher wished. The frisson in the parlour was unmistakable, and Mr Butler was glad that Dorothy had been ushered out for the evening.

In the Parlour, Jack sipped his drink carefully. Phryne looked beautiful. Was it acceptable to tell her that? He’d wondered about how to greet her, and had just gone with kissing her cheek when he saw her leaning against the door frame. He was fairly sure he hadn’t mistaken the small shiver that he thought he had felt. The way she had stroked his arm had been so tender that Jack was slightly taken aback. Phryne wasn’t being as outrageously flirtatious as she often was when they worked a case, and he realised now that being alone, together, here in her Parlour was both familiar and entirely new. He saw in Phryne’s eyes the same yearning he felt for her. 

Phryne sipped her drink slowly. Mr B’s cocktails were not to be rushed, and she wanted to keep something of a clear head. Jack was unlike other men, and she was aware that she would have to tread carefully so as not to scare him off. Something deep in the back of Phryne’s mind told her that Jack wouldn’t want to stay tonight even if she decided to make him the offer. And she hadn’t entirely decided if she was going to offer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Jack, she did. It was more that he seemed determined to move slowly, and for once, Phryne was intrigued by the prospect. 

“So Jack” Phryne spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence, “good day at work?”

Jack smiled, “paperwork, mostly. Report after report, to be read, written or filed. I considered bringing you a file to read, but, as you’re a material witness in my current case…” Jack’s voice trailed off. The unspoken issue of their most recent case was hanging over them.

“About that Jack, I am sorry if I’ve got you into any trouble” Phryne wasn’t sure whether she meant with the new Chief Commissioner, with Rosie, or with Jack’s fellow officers, but she was sure that she had ignored him when she’d gone poking around on the ship.

“Phryne, what have I told you about being remorseful?” Jack reached over to the low coffee table and rested his glass upon it. Reaching over to Phryne, he took her chin in his hand and stroked her cheek tenderly with an outstretched finger.

“That it confuses you” said Phryne, almost in a whisper. 

“Yes, and I think confusion is something we should try to minimise, from now on, don’t you?” asked Jack, leaning in closer.

“Yes” breathed Phryne, her eyes darting quickly between Jack’s eyes and his lips. Jack noticed the movement and passed a glance between Phryne’s eyes and lips himself. Her lips were tantalisingly close, and Jack could feel Phryne’s breath as it came in short bursts, the expelled air brushing across his cheek. 

Jack leaned in, scanning her eyes once again for a sign of consent. Phryne’s eyelids fluttered to a close, and Jack felt her move towards him. He leaned in further and pressed his lips to hers, gently savouring the feeling. His fingers continued to gently sweep across and around her cheek, grazing her jaw line. Phryne, who still had one hand occupied with her cocktail, was surprised by the tenderness of Jack’s kiss. Last night, when they had kissed by his car, it had quickly moved on to something fiercely passionate, only the fact of the lateness of the hour and the public nature of the location preventing matters from quickly getting out of hand. Phryne realised that this felt different. Jack was moving even more slowly now than before, exploring Phryne as one might examine delicate evidence; calmly and in a controlled manner. Phryne decided she quite liked it, it felt like she was being worshipped.

Jack was finding his desire for Phryne was stamping all over his carefully developed plan, which had not involved kissing Phryne before supper had even been served, but the first kiss had been well received, and Jack felt like the first decisive step had firmly been taken last night, outside by his car. So he kissed her now, trying to show in his movements all the feelings he could not yet voice, all the desire he could not yet fully demonstrate, all the love he could not yet declare.

Jack started to withdraw slowly, kissing Phryne’s lower lip, then her upper one, before gently pressing both his lips to hers once again, before pulling away and finally breaking the kiss. 

“By the way, you look beautiful” said Jack, leaning back as he collected his glass. 

“This suit is one of my favourites of yours” said Phryne, reaching up to caress the lapel of the dark blue suit. The material felt positively alive between her fingers, or was that just the electricity she could feel flowing between them? She took a sip from her glass, grateful that Mr Butler had given them a limited amount of time before supper. Phryne wanted Jack, more than she had wanted any man in some time. She had of course been occupying herself with some lovely distractions, but none of them set her aflame in the same way as Jack was managing to do merely by kissing her. 

At the frankly none too subtle sound of chairs being adjusted in the Dining Room, Phryne sat back on the end of the chaise, as she paid her cocktail the full attention it deserved. Mr Butler entered the Parlour and announced, “Supper is served”.


	2. Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took me an agonisingly long time to decide what Supper was to consist of (it's why the first part of this story only went up yesterday - I didn't want to post anything until I'd decided what they were eating).
> 
> I definitely hold the head-canon that Jack has been slowly seducing Phryne for some time (like, most of Season 2), and that both of them are aware that there is no way they can rip each other's clothes off and make mad passionate love to each other without it changing everything between them. However much they might want to. And they both do! I am definitely a fan of the 'slow-burn' approach. 
> 
> I also have some thoughts about what Jack does and doesn't want, but *spoilers, sweetie!*

Having managed to settle themselves in the Dining Room, Mr Butler poured the wine and retreated back to the kitchen. 

Jack could feel his nerves starting to rise. He had no idea of what Phryne’s concept of ‘a light supper’ could extend to. He was half expecting the most deliciously sinful and calculated to tease, embarrass, or arouse, selection of foods known to man. He had of course eaten at Phryne’s house before, and was aware that Mr Butler was an excellent cook, but he was worried about being presented with food he couldn’t understand and didn’t know how to deal with. Worse off all possible scenarios that were racing through his mind was something that demanded fingers, and the direct feeding of the same to Phryne. If that happened he would probably combust. 

Jack may have been exceptionally nervous, but he was also exceptionally determined to enjoy himself. He was aware that something had shifted between himself and Phryne. There had been a point last night where she had looked at him, and had seemed to realise the depths of his feelings towards her. He hoped to be able to recapture that mood tonight. Jack had come to realise that when it came to Phryne Fisher, he was going to have to make the first move. The thought filled him with dread. He was reasonably confident that she wanted him. The way she had kissed him last night had indicated as much. He just wanted some indication that her feelings for him went beyond the merely physical. Jack himself was unsure as to exactly what he wanted, and how that might fit around what Phryne wanted, both issues which had been weighing on his mind during the day. He knew he had no desire to change her, to trap her, to in any way crush her indomitable spirit – it was the very thing about her which drew him to her, like a moth to a flame. But he also hoped that she cared for him even a fraction as much as he cared for her.

Phryne was subtly assessing Jack from behind her wine glass. She had discussed this evening’s meal at some length with Mr Butler. Phryne’s intention for the evening was to make Jack as comfortable as possible. Judging by the fact that he had already kissed her, she was gathering that he was feeling at least slightly relaxed. Phryne was somewhat surprised if she was being honest. She had expected polite respectability, possibly a held hand at some point, had hoped for a chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of the night. She was having to readjust her expectations rapidly. Was she going to invite Jack to stay for the night after all? Looking at him now she thought she could see trepidation rising again. She smiled slightly to herself, she hoped he’d enjoy the meal, and she was coming round to the thought that they might be each other’s dessert course. 

Mr Butler carefully entered the room carrying the plates. Jack raised an eyebrow at the offered food. 

“Thank you Mr Butler” said Phryne, noting Jack’s surprise.

“Yes, thank you Mr Butler” added Jack, releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. 

“Miss, Sir” replied Mr Butler, standing back from the table, “Will there be anything more for the moment?” he asked.

“No, thank you Mr Butler, this looks delightful. You have excelled yourself as ever” Phryne beamed as Jack continued to take it in. Mr Butler discreetly withdrew. Jack didn’t even notice he had gone. 

This was not what Jack had been expecting. It was so, well, normal. Lamb, dauphinoise potatoes and garden peas had been cleverly arranged on the plate. He recalled now that these were the same potatoes Phryne had brought to him in his office once. 

“Not what you were expecting, Jack?” asked Phryne, taking in Jack’s obvious surprise.

“Well, you said ‘light supper’…..” Jack tailed off.

“Were you thinking it would be oysters and asparagus?” teased Phryne. 

Jack’s brain realised it had to kick back into action and run fast to catch up. He grasped for words, any words to respond to her. Phryne could see the cogs whirring in Jack’s mind, and decided to give him a moment to compose himself. She sipped from her wine glass, feeling the delightfully fruity after notes sizzle down her throat. 

“Maybe that could be another time?” he ventured, noting that Phryne raised an eyebrow and the edge of her lips in seeming agreement, the slight tilt of her head in his direction showing her amusement.

“I’ll bear that in mind then. For another time” replied Phryne, pleased by Jack’s response. Phryne noted Jack relaxing, as he picked up his cutlery and began to eat. 

The food was really very excellent. Mr Butler had somehow managed to raise a simple meal into an elegant taste explosion. The juices of the lamb mingled beautifully with the light sauce of the potatoes, and the peas contained quite the most subtle yet defined taste of mint that Jack had ever had the pleasure to experience. 

Phryne and Jack passed the meal in amiable silence, each occasionally looking over towards their companion. Jack was feeling much more at ease than he had been expecting, the combination of comforting food and good wine merging to melt his nervousness. Phryne could see the tension easing from Jack’s body the more he ate. His shoulders had relaxed, he was starting to make appreciative sighs as he savoured each mouthful of food, and soon enough he had polished off every morsel.

Phryne finished her food just before Jack, and sat watching him, her chin resting in her hand in a manner that would have quite appalled her teachers at finishing school, Aunt P and every society hostess in Melbourne. Phryne didn’t care. When she was with Jack she felt like she herself could truly relax. 

She looked at Jack, who met her gaze and reflected it back towards her. Maintaining the eye contact, and never wavering, Jack moved his hand onto the table, and released the hand Phryne was using to support her chin, lightly brushing a fingertip across her jawline as he trailed his fingers into hers and pulled her hand down to the table. Jack traced swirling patterns with the pad of his thumb across Phryne’s palm, memorising the smoothness and elegance of her hand. Phryne felt her chest heave slightly. How was Jack able to make her feel so breathless with such a small movement? 

Phryne could see an intensity burning in Jack’s eyes, she felt as if he were piercing her very soul. And the intensity, which she felt should frighten her, instead made her own desire quicken. If he were any other man she’d march him up to her bedroom right now, and social niceties be damned, but he was Jack, and Phryne’s exceptionally confused feelings towards him were forcing her to tamper down her usual responses and behaviours. Phryne Fisher was no coward, but her feelings for Jack alarmed her at least. She knew she wanted him, she was fairly sure he wanted her, if the way he had responded to her kiss last night was anything to go by, but beyond that, a desire not to ruin a friendship which Phryne had grown to cherish was pre-occupying her mind. 

The swirling patterns made by Jack’s thumb had now been joined by the gentle stroking of his fingers across the back of her hand. Phryne felt her heartbeat racing. How was it possible that Jack could make her feel such an aching as she was feeling now? She recalled the time she had stroked her fingers across his palm, remembered telling him he had a heart as deep as the Pacific Ocean. Phryne was trying to work out the jumbled mess of thoughts running through her head. All she knew was that she cared for him deeply, and she wanted him in her life. Beyond that, everything was confused, hazy and unknowable. Phryne had no idea how to deal with any of this; she just knew she didn’t want to break Jack’s heart. Had he felt even a fraction of the way she felt now when she had stroked his palm?

Mr Butler, who had spent an enjoyable half an hour in the kitchen, felt his ears prick up at the lack of any sound of cutlery. He rose slowly, and discreetly checked that he was not about to interrupt. From his position across the back corridor from the Dining Room, on the edge of the kitchen, he could see Miss Fisher had turned herself towards the seat occupied by the Inspector, could see the entwined hands, and small movements of the Inspector’s thumb and fingers. Whilst that was the only physical contact between Miss Fisher and the Inspector, Mr Butler could sense the tension in the room, even from this distance, and decided to carefully walk down the back corridor and into the parlour, rather than entering the dining room to clear the table. In the parlour he poured two generous measures of whiskey, leaving them on the coffee table, placing the decanter there as well. He removed himself back into the corridor and carefully shut the door behind him. He heard the quiet sound of chairs being adjusted and waited where he was until he could be sure Miss Fisher and the Inspector had vacated the Dining Room. When he went in to clear the plates, he was not surprised to observe that the main parlour doors were now closed. Coffee, Mr Butler decided, did not need to be served.


	3. Dessert

As they entered the Parlour, Jack noted the Whiskey glasses, and decanter, waiting for them on the low table. Jack paused, looking to Phryne and raising an eyebrow.  
“Where have they come from?” queried Jack.

“Ah, the incredible talents of Mr Butler. I’ve learnt not to ask quite how he senses these things. I think it must be part of Butler Training School” replied Phryne, a grin spreading slowly across her face.

“A Butler called ‘Mr Butler’, do you think he had any other career options?” asked Jack, pondering aloud. He had moved to the far end of the Chaise, nearest to the fire, which was burning away nicely.

“It had occurred to me that it was very convenient”, Phryne was enjoying this light-hearted side of Jack. 

“So, ‘Miss Fisher’, if your job was your name, that would mean…” he trailed off, sitting down carefully on the end of the chaise. 

“I’m not sure I could pull off Galoshes and hand knitted jumpers” Phryne responded, settling herself at the head of the Chaise. 

“You can pull off pink feathers, after that I would imagine anything is possible” replied Jack, a tantalising image flying briefly through his mind. He swallowed quickly to compose himself.

The slight distraction was not lost on Phryne and she smiled cheekily to herself as she reached for one of the tumblers of whiskey. 

“As I discovered during rehearsal, the feathers can be somewhat ticklish” said Phryne, looking at Jack with a poker straight face. 

Jack felt the sudden need to stretch his collar slightly; it seemed remarkably warm in the room. 

“You’re not blushing are you Jack?” asked Phryne with a smirk.

“Of course not, it’s just that is a very good fire” replied Jack, “may I suggest something potentially terribly daring?” he asked.

Phryne was intrigued, “Something daring? Absolutely Jack”

“May I take off my jacket?” Jack asked, a rumble to his voice which was entirely seductive.

“Is that the something daring?” asked Phryne, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“It is” said Jack, casually placing his right hand on the low back of the Chaise and leaning his weight onto it, his arm muscles tensing. It was deliberate provocation on his part.

Phryne recalled that she had seen Jack without his jacket once before, on the beach at Queenscliff. It had been a magnificent sight, and had occupied Phryne’s mind on a number of occasions since. Of course, he’d not just not being wearing the jacket; he had been almost entirely completely stripped of all his armour that day. Phryne hoped to be able to make such inroads in the near future.

“Of course you may, I want you to be comfortable Jack” she said, deciding that she rather liked this side of Jack’s character. 

Jack stood, took his jacket off and draped it carefully over the back of the arm chair nearest the fire before returning to his place on the Chaise. Phryne couldn’t help but notice that he sat a little closer to her when he sat down. 

“Better?” she asked, taking a sip of her whiskey and focusing her gaze on Jack. She scanned the outline of his arms. They were still covered by his shirt, but as he adjusted his posture the material skimmed against his biceps. She took another swig of the amber liquid.

“Much” said Jack, taking a sip of his whiskey before gently setting the glass down on the coffee table. As he levered himself back up to a sitting position, he moved even closer to Phryne.

Phryne’s mind started racing along even faster than her Hispano-Suiza. Was this his move? They’d broken the tension of first kisses last night, and then again before supper, but the expression on Jack’s face now was unmistakable. It was as if the last sip of warming whiskey had set off a fire within him. She tried to remain relaxed; it felt ridiculous to be nervous. She also didn’t want to frighten him off; she had already determined that any physical contact had to be initiated by Jack. She knew she wanted him, knew that if it were anyone else she would not hesitate to make her intentions and objectives clear. She was fairly sure Jack knew she wanted him. She was fairly sure, examining all the evidence presented to her in the last 24 hours, that he wanted her too. But he had resisted for so long that she really couldn’t be sure of anything other than the pounding of her heart as it beat a tattoo. She was suddenly very aware that she was still holding her Whiskey. What did she do with the glass? She had managed to hold the cocktail glass when he had kissed her earlier, but that had been before the ensuing bottle of wine had also passed their lips. She gripped the glass a little tighter.

Jack saw the nervousness suddenly appear in Phryne’s eyes. She was trying desperately to hide it, he could see that. Jack found it interesting that Phryne seemed nervous, but it made his own tension fade slightly. Not completely of course, he was about to take a somewhat monumental step. And yes, he’d now kissed her already, but Jack was a careful planner, and careful kisses were about to go out of the window. He saw Phryne’s hand tense around her tumbler. He reached his left hand up and placed it over the tumbler, allowing Phryne to relax her grip on the delicate glassware. He pulled the tumbler gently towards himself, and felt the loss of contact as Phryne’s hand was freed. His eyes flickered, for the briefest of moments to the table, as he carefully sat the glass down. Bringing his hand back to hers, he gently interlocked his fingers with hers.  
“Phryne?” he asked, not daring to vocalise the rest of his request.

“Yes” she replied. A statement, not a question, Jack noted. It was all the confirmation he needed. He loosened the grip on her fingers. Time stopped as Jack saw Phryne’s pupils dilate and noticed that her breathing quickened. It felt like the world was about to begin.

The clock in the hallway sounded the first chimes for nine o’clock, breaking the silence. Jack’s arm moved swiftly and decisively around to Phryne’s back, scooping her to him as he used his other arm to lever himself further towards the head of the chaise and closer to Phryne. His lips met hers in a demanding kiss, like a drowning man seeking dry land. Phryne responded immediately, yielding to his kiss as he nuzzled at her lips. Her hands found their way to Jack’s shoulder and neck, willing him to move even closer. Her lips parted and she felt his tongue pass over her lips, swirling and dancing and savouring her. Phryne responded in kind, finding that she was hungry to explore every inch of Jack’s mouth. 

As that was happening, Phryne became aware that she and Jack had managed to pull one another so close that they were now joined at several points along their upper bodies. Jack could feel Phryne’s chest heaving with each snatched breath, and Phryne could feel Jack’s pulse, racing throughout his body. The sensation was highly intoxicating. Phryne wanted more.

As they continued kissing, she ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck. The hair was so fine and soft, not at all what she had been expecting. 

She was still learning that Jack Robinson was full of surprises. She had already gathered; last night, and then earlier this evening, that he was a good kisser. She hadn’t quite expected the depth of passion so obviously on display now. He had always seemed so calm and measured; she hadn’t expected him to be so eager. Which really was an oversight, she now decided. It should, really have been obvious to her that once he had stepped over the line, that there would be no stopping him; the horse had bolted; the stable door had been smashed from its hinges. 

They were still kissing, still revelling in this first glorious exploration of each other. Neither felt the need to come up for air. How long they continued kissing, neither could be sure, but eternity would have been too short a time to satisfy them fully. 

Jack still had one hand supporting him on the back of the chaise. It was becoming uncomfortable, and to be frank, he felt he could be employing the hand to better effect. He opened his eyes slightly to get his bearings. There was a cushion behind Phryne, and Jack trailed the hand which was currently resting on Phryne’s back down onto the chaise. He hurriedly rearranged the cushion, to ensure it would act as a barrier between the hard piece of furniture and Phryne. Happy with his work he placed his hand on her back, splaying his fingers as he did. Keeping the connections between their upper bodies, he scooted her backwards, a combination of the pressure from his body and guidance from his splayed hand positioning her where he wanted to. He removed his hand from her back and swept around to gather up her legs, positioning them across his legs, so that she was almost sat in his lap. He was now practically at the head of the chaise himself. 

Phryne felt Jack scooping her legs up and wondered momentarily whether he was going to attempt to ravish her on the chaise. She decided that she wouldn’t stop him if he did. And just like that, Phryne knew that she wanted Jack to stay, knew she wanted to make glorious, passionate love with him all night. Her desire was growing every moment he continued to kiss her. 

Jack was greatly enjoying the kissing. He was worried that he was going to seem too eager, but the way Phryne was responding to his touch dispelled those concerns. He had never known such eagerness, as if Phryne’s need matched his own. He was positively shocked when her tongue began hungrily exploring his mouth. 

Jack could have carried on in this manner all night, if Phryne would allow it, but he was hungry to explore other options for kissing. He broke off the exploration with his tongue and withdrew, leaving just his lips to worship Phryne’s. He suckled on them, gently releasing each one with a pop. Phryne opened her eyes, and Jack’s hand which had now been freed from the need to support himself on the back of the chaise swept up her arm, tracing swirling, dancing patterns on her exposed skin as he advanced to her neck and jawline. Jack’s head bowed slightly, to allow him to kiss Phryne’s jawline. She arched her neck back, opening herself up to allow him more skin to worship. When he took her earlobe in his mouth, first sucking and then, very gently, nibbling, she could not help but release a small moan of arousal. 

“Oh Jack” she purred. He pulled away slightly.

“Is this all right?” he asked, a low rumble to his voice that caused Phryne to shiver slightly at the desire she could hear within it. 

“Yes. Please don’t stop” was all the coherence she was able to manage. 

Jack smiled and suckled gently on her earlobe once more. He ran his hand around her jawline and down her neck as he did so. Phryne felt like her skin was on fire. She had not been so elegantly seduced for some time. Phryne’s hands were sweeping a meandering path around Jack’s back. Even with his waistcoat in place, she could feel the outline of his shoulder blades, could feel the firmness of his muscles. Her hands glided along his waistline, her fingers teasing under the edge of the waistcoat, feeling the definition of his abs. Jack suckled harder, transferring his kisses to her neckline, expertly lathering the same with delicate butterfly kisses, interspersed with teasing caresses from his tongue. 

Phryne’s frustration was beginning to rise. Jack was still wrapped up like a Christmas present, and she desperately wanted to free him. She moved a hand up to his neck, attempting to tease her fingers down his collar. It was no use, the tie was going to have to come off, and frankly the top shirt buttons needed to be undone so that Phryne could stand a hope of torturing Jack in the sweetly exquisite way he was currently doing to her. 

Phryne was, on her own testimony, an expert in removing men’s clothing. But Jack was continuing to demand all her attention at her neckline. His hands were also now gently sweeping swirling motions down the side of her ribcage and around to as much of her back as Jack could feasibly access. She arched her back to allow him greater access, inadvertently thrusting her pert breasts towards him as she did. The shock of this caused Jack to momentarily seize his ministrations. Phryne seized her chance.

“Jack?” she asked, so quietly she couldn’t even be sure she had heard herself.

Jack blinked, fear beginning to rise within him that Phryne was about to ask him to stop. And then to leave. And then to say that she would never see him again.

“Yes?” he responded nervously, still clutching her to him, like a lifebelt.

“The tie, this tie, could I?” she tugged lightly at the material, as if to indicate her request.

Jack swallowed. So, not a rejection then. He had to make a quick decision; one line had already been crossed, was this the next one? Was this necessarily the big step? He pulled himself together, his mind berating him that it was just a tie. He sat up slightly, leaning one elbow one on the back of the chaise and practically ripping his tie from around his neck. He went for the top button of his shirt, but Phryne pulled him quickly back to her, loosening the fastening herself. He threw the tie towards the chair where his jacket lay. He had honestly no clue where it actually fell, and right now he didn’t care. 

He picked up Phryne’s hand and began kissing her soft palm. If the way he had gently caressed her hand earlier at the end of Supper had felt intense, that was nothing to the explosion which occurred when Jack’s tongue swirled around her wrist. Phryne absentmindedly flicked open the next shirt button too, giving herself more room to explore. Jack was making remarkably light work of the buttons on the arm of the blouse, he was impressing even himself with his ability to command the level of motor-function required. The buttons released, the light material floated up Phryne’s arm, as Jack’s clever fingers continued their hypnotic swirling motion. He dipped his head down and started nibbling at her earlobe once more, experimenting with the precise amount of pressure required to make Phryne whimper ever so slightly. 

Phryne realised that, thanks to the removal of the tie and those pesky shirt buttons, she could finally access Jack’s neck. She tilted her head slightly, as he continued his work on her neck, arms, and increasingly, Phryne noticed, the side of her ribcage. She was fairly sure she had just felt the pad of his thumb brush the edge of her breast. When she felt his thumb re-pass over the same area she was sure. As she tilted her head she opened her mouth slightly and expelled hot air onto Jack’s neck as she made to kiss it. A small, yet unmistakably guttural sound emanated from Jack as he briefly paused in his attentions. Jack held her to him as she made eager work of exploring all the skin which was now exposed. Sucking, biting, licking, all featured as Phryne very thoroughly committed this part of Jack to her memory. She ran her fingers through his hair noting that the slight curl to it was more pronounced this evening. She ran her hands up and around and down Jack’s back, sliding up under his waistcoat, cleverly loosening the bottom two buttons to allow herself access. Jack felt taut and lean but athletic. It wasn’t entirely a surprise after their adventure in Queenscliff, but being able to actually run her hands over Jack’s body was so much more satisfying than having to gaze at him from too far away. 

Jack held her to him as she continued to kiss every part of him she could reasonably access. He was overwhelmed at how active she was, stunned that she was so obviously interested in his body, and every part of it. Phryne twisted oddly and her blouse released itself from her trousers. Jack felt the material float over his hand which was splayed on her back supporting her. Phryne felt the blouse free itself too and felt Jack tense.

She released herself from his neck and sat back slightly so she could look at him. Jack glanced down. He could see her skin, knew that he could very easily slip his hand inside the blouse and gently caress her delectable breasts more closely, could probably just relieve her of her blouse entirely. He didn’t allow himself to consider what kind of lingerie she might be wearing. 

As Jack looked at Phryne and Phryne met his gaze unashamedly, Jack felt like this, here, was the line in the sand. In the hallway, the clock struck its chimes for half past the hour. Jack glanced at his watch. It was half past ten. 

“It’s half past ten” he said, stunning himself with the banality of the statement. 

Once again, time seemed to stop, but now it seemed like everything was balancing on a cliff-edge, and the only option was to pull back. 

Jack picked up Phryne’s hand once more, and kissed the palm lightly, moving his hand up to tenderly stroke her cheek. She briefly blinked her eyes at the contact, knowing Jack was about to step back from the edge. How she wished they both just had the courage to leap into the unknown. 

Jack sat up, moving himself away from Phryne’s warmth, “I should go”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick 'heads up' that the next Chapter is going to take a while to appear. I have it planned out, and snippets of the dialogue in my head, but I feel it is important to Get It Right.


	4. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've pretty much had each other for dessert; will Jack stay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this contains a fair amount of Jack being angsty. Bless him, he has far too much time to swim around in his own thoughts. And apparently, he cannot read Phryne at all.
> 
> Also, I have tried to research the history of divorce law in the State of Victoria as it was in 1929. The good news is that it was possible. The bad is that it wasn't easy, and my reading heavily indicates that it was slightly easier for the husband to sue for divorce. And it's hinted in The Football episode that it was Rosie who finally got round to it. From what I can gather, whoever was actually the petitioner would have likely had to go for Adultery (and you had to name the 'other person' in those days, and I actually think that's unlikely). The other avenue might have been 'desertion' (and again, I'm not actually going to draw conclusions as to who had deserted whom - as written, it could, in the eyes of the law, have been either of them). You also weren't allowed to agree that you wanted a divorce - it *had* to be adversarial, and if thr court thought you were in any way colluding, they could refuse to grant the divorce. Poor Jack, his most difficult case indeed.

Jack sat up, moving himself away from Phryne’s warmth, “I should go”.

The look in Jack’s eyes indicated that actually leaving was very far from his preferred option. 

Phryne could see the war being waged within Jack. She wanted him to stay, but could tell that this was A Big Deal for him. Dash his moral compass! Phryne was torn between how aroused she was now, and her desire to fulfil that arousal, and her wish not to frighten Jack off or push him into anything he wasn’t ready for. Phryne considered her wording carefully – an outright invitation would be too much, “Do you want to go?” she asked, locking eyes with him and bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. Jack leaned into her hand, his eyes flickering shut as if committing her touch to memory. He opened his eyes slowly.

“If I stay, everything changes between us” Jack spoke gently, as if to say the words too loudly would shatter the air around them. 

“I’m fairly sure quite a lot has changed between us already” retorted Phryne, the words charging out of her mouth. 

Jack sighed, and sat up, kissing Phryne’s palm as he removed it from his cheek. Sitting back against the low back of the Chaise he briefly closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. Phryne allowed him the time, and it occurred to her that Jack hadn’t actually said that he wanted to go. He hadn’t given an answer at all.

“Jack?” Phryne tentatively reached out to lightly graze his arm. Jack opened his eyes and slowly turned to look at Phryne, placing his hands lightly across her legs, still placed on his lap, as he met her gaze. There was a maelstrom of emotions displayed in his eyes.

“Jack, talk to me.”

“I don’t know….” Jack trailed off again and went quiet. He sighed and spoke again, “I don’t know how to explain…”

“Well, I believe we are all about trying to minimise confusion, so why don’t you try, and I’ll sit here quietly and listen.” Jack raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief, “I can be quiet Jack, when the need arises” said Phryne, with just a hint of seduction. She was trying very hard, she really was, but flirtation was practically her default setting these days, especially with Jack. “Come on Jack, set out all the evidence, let’s break it down like a case”. Phryne reached over and poured more whiskey into each of the tumblers, handing Jack’s glass to him and taking her own and settling back against the chaise. She made no attempt to remove her legs from where they still lay in Jack’s lap, Jack stroking the same even now. Jack’s internal monologue was screaming at him, alternately to either man up, confess all and prepare to have his heart ripped out, or else to make a weak excuse and flee for the discomfort of his own home. The man won out over the coward. Directness seemed to be the best approach.

“I,” his voice croaked, and he took a quick gulp of his whiskey, “I want you, Phryne. I want you with an intensity that I cannot describe, and it burns within me. And that is where my problems begin.” Jack’s free hand was brushing gently along her thighs.

“I have, no frame of reference for, well, any of this” he waved his tumbler hand between them. He took another gulp, and looked away from Phryne. He felt he should try and explain. 

“When I grew up, the expectation was that you would meet a girl, and walk out with her, and if you both felt you liked each other enough then you got married, and settled down and that was that”. At this, Phryne took a drink. Jack continued, “And that was, and probably still is, the conventional thing, the way you’re supposed to do things. But,” and here Jack paused and took a further swig, “I’m not entirely sure I’m all that conventional. If my experiences have taught me anything, it’s that you cannot tell how your life is going to turn out.”

“Hmm” murmured Phryne, a reaction which persuaded Jack to look at her. The worst was yet to come he felt. He continued.

“It’s just. It feels like the entire world has a right to know about a person’s private life. Why does everything have to be public statements?”

Phryne was confused at this. She reached forward and stroked Jack’s hand. “Can you explain that a bit more, I’m afraid you’ve lost me somewhat.”

Jack took a second to gather this thoughts, “you start ‘courting’ someone and all your friends know, and quiz you about it, and then you become engaged, and there’s an announcement, and your families get involved, and then there’s a wedding, and everyone watches whilst you stand there and make a promise to love someone for as long as the rest of your life might be, without any concept of what that really means, and with no idea of what the future holds, and how that might change you. And throughout it all, everyone asks you about it: ‘how’s it going’; ‘when are you going to propose’; ‘when are you having children’; ‘why haven’t you had children yet?’ Why is it any of anyone’s business what two adults do in private? Why can’t people just be allowed to live their lives the way they want to?” He was gripping her leg somewhat tightly now he realised. He realised his hold, smoothing out her trousers as he did. 

“Have you ever been in a divorce court Phryne?” She shook her head to indicate not.

“It is, horrible. Your entire life; things you said in conversation years before, are poured over, and ripped apart. And then some Judge, who has never met you, gets to decide if you’re allowed to draw that chapter of your life to an end, or whether you both have to suffer on being miserable. If two people can decide that they like each other enough to give it a go, without truly knowing each other, why can’t those same two people, if in fact, it isn’t working any more, just make that decision together. Why does it have to end up in a humiliating court battle, and a tit bit on page 6 of The Argus?”

“Well, hopefully one day, people will be able to live and love freely, however they want.” said Phryne. Her promise to stay quiet was threatening to disappear faster than the whiskey now was, “Do I take it, Jack, that another marriage is not something you are inclined to enter into?” 

“I don’t believe it is, no” said Jack, “but please know Phryne, that this is how I feel; not a slight on anyone else” Jack was desperate not to offend Phryne. He strongly suspected that she wasn’t particularly interested in marriage either, but he didn’t want to insult her. She nodded; a slight smile on her face. Jack released a held breathe, relieved that Phryne didn’t seem to be offended.

“I am not saying that I don’t want a relationship, but I would rather it was all kept private, and discreet. It is none of anyone’s business” Jack took a further swig from his tumbler, which drained it. He leant forward to furnish himself with a top-up, offering the decanter towards Phryne. She accepted the offer, holding her glass out. Jack refilled her glass, replaced the decanter and sat back again. 

“But,” he swallowed deeply, “I also will not hide anymore. Phryne, I, care for you, deeply. There is no one else for me. I have never felt this way about anyone, ever. And I cannot see that changing. I know I’ve said that life has taught me that the future is unpredictable, but I am older now than I was, and hopefully wiser, and I feel I know myself better than I did, even a year ago. You have swept into my life, and, entirely, turned it upside down. I know that you are a free spirit, that you have no desire to be tied down, that you have a boundless energy and enthusiasm for life, and as I told you once, not so long ago, when we had, our, disagreement, I would never try to change you. It is your indomitable spirit that makes you who you are, and I would never want you to feel that you were compromising yourself.”

Phryne was feeling slightly overwhelmed, but it was clear that Jack was not finished yet, so she remained quiet, giving him the space to speak. Jack reached over and took Phryne’s hand in his. 

“I also feel that we have developed a friendship. That friendship means a lot to me, and I would not want to sacrifice that merely for the sake of a brief, physical liaison. I enjoy us working together, no matter how much you may breach protocol, on occasion. I want a relationship with you. I want to be your lover, and not just for one or two nights. But I do not want to ask you for anything you are unwilling to give.” He took a massive gulp from his tumbler,

“And that is why I have a problem, because I do not know how we can ever be lovers, and remain friends if it all goes wrong; how we can work together in the future if I say or do something to hurt you. And I have no clue as to what you want, Phryne. I have no idea why you are possibly interested in me. And I think, with everything I know about you, that you don’t want a relationship at all, certainly not with me, and that I have probably just made an unholy idiot of myself by telling you all this. So that, Phryne, is why I should go. Before I allow myself to, fall for you, any more than I already have. To leave now, without having known you entirely, will be so much less tortuous than staying, and always knowing in the future what I could never have again.”

Jack leant forward and placed his tumbler on the table. He looked thoroughly dejected and Phryne was perilously close to tears. She didn’t think a man had made such an honest declaration of love to her ever; he may not have used the word, but the sentiment was clear. 

Phryne gripped his hand, forcing him to look at her. “Well, that is a lot Jack,” her voice was almost a whisper. Jack was hoping that she’d be gracious enough to let him down gently; resist the temptation to rip his heart out entirely and devour it. He’d had an enjoyable evening; he’d behaved, he felt, like a gentleman. He would always have fond memories of her Chaise Longue, even if he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to sit on it ever again. He waited for the fatal blow to be delivered.

Phryne, who was trying to organise her thoughts into a logical order, turned to Jack. She picked up the hand that was joined with hers, raising it to her lips and kissing it gently, “Do I get a chance at a rebuttal?”


	5. Rebuttal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know it, but Jack owes Mac the largest fruit basket MYER can supply....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I wrote the flashback scene with Mac in my car, on my commute home. And it was better than this: it was wittier; it was punchier. But it was also in my head. And then when I got home I watched last night's episode of Castle. And now I'm not crying, you're crying. So yeah, mood whiplash! I'll be working on the fuller version of the conversation in the next few weeks, and I'll upload it as a separate fic with a cross-reference when I do, so you know where it fits. 
> 
> Also, Mac uses direct language, apologies if any of it offends. 
> 
> One more chapter of this I think...

Jack felt the warmth in his hand, and looked at Phryne. Realising she was waiting for a response, he nodded, somewhat tersely. 

“That was very honest, Jack. Thank you” Phryne was still trying to process her thoughts, picking through everything Jack had said and identifying the parts that needed the most urgent response. She sat up, swinging round on the Chaise and sweeping her legs off Jack’s lap as she did so. Jack gulped and tried to blink away a tear he could feel forming. This was it then, rejection was only moments away. He’d allow Phryne her response; it was only fair to allow her the opportunity to tell him what a total loser he was. Maybe if she insulted him thoroughly it would all stop hurting so much sooner. He doubted it, but he was trying to be optimistic. His posture slumped slightly in the Chaise, as if trying to minimise the surface area of himself that would be available to metaphorically punch.

Phryne sat up straight, leaned forward and kissed Jack lightly on the temple. Retreating from the closeness, she bent down and started unbuckling her shoes, her mind casting itself back to a conversation she had endured with Mac a few weeks earlier.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“So he’s fallen for you, and he went off in a huff?” Mac strode into the Parlour, observing Phryne. 

“He didn’t use those precise words. And Good Afternoon” replied Phryne, not looking up.

“And you’ve fallen for him.” Mac plonked herself down in the armchair nearest the fire.

“What? No I haven’t” Phryne finally looked up. Mac examined her with scrutiny.

“You’ve got red cheeks, and puffy eyes, and Mr B tells me you’re half way down your fourth glass of Scotch”

“So?”

“It’s Two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon! If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be this upset. I don’t want to encourage this sort of thing, but that man is in love with you. And he came back, for god’s sake.”

“I didn’t ask him to.” Phryne took another sip from her glass.

“Indeed not. But you should tell him” Mac poured herself a glass of Scotch from the decanter.

“Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

“Mac. I can’t.”

“Phryne Fisher, you are my oldest friend. And life is too bloody short for this bullshit. You are both as stubborn as each other, so at least that’s something. Do me a favour; when he tells you he loves you, and he will; don’t laugh at him, don’t shrug it off. Tell him, honestly, how you feel. Give him a chance, and let him in.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

There had been more, much more to the conversation, and by the time Mac had left Phryne had drunk through another four tumblers of Scotch, soaked three handkerchiefs with various bodily fluids and admitted that, yes: she did, probably, maybe, perhaps love Jack Robinson; that she was prepared to admit it; but only if he did first; and that if he ever hurt her Mac would kill him cleanly and burn his body in the University Incinerator before anyone could realise he was even missing. 

 

Phryne’s second shoe hit the carpet, and she curled her legs under her. She took Jack’s right hand and held it softly, noticing how well their hands moulded together. Honesty, Mac had said. Jack had been honest with her, she owed it to him, and to herself, to be honest in return. 

“I once told you that I haven’t taken anything seriously….” She broke off, swallowing the memories down.

“Since 1918” Jack finished. 

“I’m not, actually, sure how true that is. One thing you should know Jack, is that I have never set out to toy with anyone’s feelings. Especially not yours. If I merely wanted to seduce you, then to be frank, I would have done so quite some time ago.” Phryne stroked Jack’s palm lightly, gazing intently at the swirling patterns her fingers were tracing. 

“If it helps, I don’t really have any experience of this either.” Jack looked at her with an expression that indicated strongly that he thought that was nonsense. “Don’t look like that Jack. I’m never usually…" she paused, and when she spoke again it was even more hesitantly, "We’ve spent a lot of time together, and I agree; that we are friends. I know, quite a lot about you. But it scares me, a little, no, a lot, that I want to know, all, of you.” Phryne took a deep breath, “I am not, good, at not being in control. And, being with one person, entirely, and letting them into…. Letting them know how much I care about them, feels like I am relinquishing control.”

“I would never want to control you” said Jack, quietly. 

“I know. Rationally, logically, I know that. I know you Jack Robinson, and you are a good man. But I cannot, quite, forget my past experience.” Phryne paused. Jack could feel her hand shaking slightly. 

“DuBois” whispered Jack, moving his left hand to rest on top of Phryne’s, a silent attempt to comfort her. 

“I care for you.” she swallowed heavily. Now to try and let Jack in, “Actually, I’m scared. I want you. I yearn for you. And I do want to see if it can be more than ‘a brief physical liaison’” Jack smiled, hearing his own words spoken back to him. Phryne continued, “I want to be with you, but I am scared that if I allow myself to completely fall for you, that I will be vulnerable, to being hurt. And I never want to feel that hurt again. I am not good at being in an ongoing relationship.”

“Well, I have documentary proof of how bad I am at being in an ongoing relationship, so we might be about even on that front,” Jack grinned, in an attempt to lighten the mood. That earned a small smile from Phryne, “not that my experience, is in any way comparable to yours, obviously” he added, squeezing her hand. He quietened again, could see that Phryne had her next thought prepared.

“What I want, Jack is to be with you. And you have only made as much of an idiot of yourself as I am making of myself.” 

She paused and adjusted herself, edging closer to Jack on the Chaise. “And as to why I would possibly be interested in you: you are loyal,” she leant up and kissed Jack lightly on the forehead, “you are honest, even if you think it will hurt you” she kissed his temple again, “you are steadfast, even in the face of extreme provocation”, she kissed his cheek, “you are witty”, she kissed his jawline, “you aren’t afraid to banter with me”, she kissed his neck, “you are intelligent and always provide insight into my cases”, she kissed his nose, “and you have earned my trust, by always being there for me, whatever the cost to you” she kissed his lips, gently at first, and as she felt Jack relax she deepened the kiss, loosening their joined hands to wrap her arms around him and pull herself closer.

Jack sat up straighter once more, responding to the kiss. He felt alive, and full of hope. Phryne cared for him! She wanted to be with him! She wanted him! If he was brutally truthful with himself he’d known that for quite some time, but the desire between them had seemed to deepen somewhat in the last few weeks. She had used the word ‘yearn’, and he saw it now, recalled the way she had looked at him in her hallway as he bade her goodnight after their late night de-briefings. He had thought it was pity, he realised now he had been quite wrong. 

The kissing was continuing, light and giddy and passion filled and lustful and sweet all combined. Phryne swung her leg around and straddled Jack’s lap. She broke the kiss and leaned back slightly, noting with pleasure that Jack’s hands immediately moved to her back to support her. 

“And you looked awesome in that bathing suit at Queenscliff and I am desperate to see the rest of you” Phryne said, her hands skittering up Jack’s biceps. 

“I would definitely appreciate a private fan dance sometime” replied Jack, his brain becoming fogged with lust. He ran his hands gently across Phryne’s back, before lowering them to cup her pert bottom and pull her down his thighs towards him. He kissed her then, with no hesitation, holding her tightly to him. Phryne wrapped her arms around Jack, running her hands up to run through his hair and along his neck. Phryne’s rational mind screamed that they had to stop, before she did something that would compromise the intentions they had expressed to each other. She broke the kiss, reluctantly. 

“We have to agree to always be honest with each other, Jack,” Phryne said, “that is how we can stay friends, even if we decide that we can’t…” 

“Be lovers” finished Jack.

“Yes. But I hope we will be able to be both. I want us to be able to be both,” responded Phryne.

The clock in the hallway chimed for half past the hour once more. Jack and Phryne looked at each other in confusion, before Jack released a hand from Phryne’s back to check his watch. He showed Phryne.

“Half past Eleven?” she asked.

“I have to be in work in the morning” said Jack, in desperation and despondency. He swung Phryne off his lap, groaning at the loss of her warmth. He attempted to stand up and immediately felt light-headed. How much had he had to drink?

Phryne looked at him, and stood up herself. She was steadier than Jack somehow, and she realised that he could not go home. 

“Right, upstairs with you” she ordered. 

“Phryne! No, I mean, I’m not sure…” Jack trailed off, his body and mind waging a war within him as to whether propriety would win over lust. 

“You’re staying Jack. I’m not letting you drive with the amount of alcohol we’ve put away. And, just for the sake of clarity, I’m not trying to seduce you right now. You need to sleep, and the upstairs of this house is a mere sixty seconds away. You can sneak out in the morning before anyone else is up. Assuming you still want to run with discretion at this stage?”

Jack could not counter Phryne’s excellent argument regarding the closeness of the upstairs of her house. He followed her as she tugged on his hand and led him from the parlour, carefully checking the hallway for any lingering household members before she pulled him from the warmth of the cosy room into the echoing tiling of the hallway. Phryne led him delicately up the stairs, pausing in the corridor outside her room. 

“Well Jack”, she said, leaning in the doorway opposite her room, "which will it be, Option A?” she swung open the door behind her, and reached inside to flick the light switch. As the bulb hummed into life, the filament warming up, Jack was presented with a perfectly pleasant, if somewhat sparsely furnished guest room. 

“Or Option B?", She asked, taking a large step across the corridor, leaning her back on her bedroom door and pushing gently. The door swung slowly open to reveal Phryne’s room, the lamps by the bed switched on, casting a soft glow of light. The bed looked warm and inviting; the furnishings soft and luxurious. Jack looked to his left, at the guest room, and then to his right, to Phryne’s room, Phryne was leaning across the doorframe. He took a step forward and moved into the doorway of the guest room. Phryne tried not to look disappointed. Reaching for the doorknob Jack turned towards Phryne, reached into the room, flicked the light switch off and pulled the door gently closed behind him. He took a further step forward. 

“Option B, please, Phryne” he said. Phryne smiled, like the Cheshire Cat, and swept her right arm aside, beckoning Jack in. He stepped into Phryne’s room as she gently eased the door shut behind them, “Jack Robinson, you are full of surprises” she murmured to herself.


	6. The Sanctity of the Boudoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's somewhat emotionally intense evening isn't over yet....
> 
> In which Jack reveals even more of himself to Phryne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note of caution that this contains some fairly frank discussions and subject matter, including contraception, children, an implication of an emotionally abusive relationship, war, post-traumatic stress (hinted at, not named) and a fair amount of emotional angst. 
> 
> If, especially in light of what they discussed in previous chapters, anyone thinks I need to amend the rating, please let me know.
> 
> Phryne's nightwear is the peach ensemble that she's trying to seduce Giorgos the Greek with in 'Deadweight' (Season 2).

Jack had been in Phryne’s bedroom before of course, when they’d been using her jewels as bait to solve the murder at Salon Fleurie, but that had been official police business, and he had lingered exactly as short a time as the writing up of the crime scene report required. This was very different; he was staying. The night. In the bed. Phryne’s bed.

“Welcome to the sanctity of the boudoir” smouldered Phryne, sweeping her arms open as if making a presentation.

Jack felt as if he was sobering up very quickly. His lips were suddenly very dry and he cleared his throat slightly to ease a tickle he could feel forming. As he was stood, just looking at the bed, Phryne made to move into the dressing room. 

“I will just be in here”, Phryne indicated the small side room, “so you feel free to take off as much clothing as you want. There’s an alarm clock somewhere on the dressing table, have a poke around for it.”

“Clothes, right. Alarm clock, yes.” said Jack, his mind feeling like it was running in slow motion. Phryne had suddenly turned into a whirlwind of energy again. He looked at her, suddenly realising her blouse was somewhat rumpled. He glanced down at himself and realised his tie was off and his waistcoat and shirt were half unbuttoned. “Oh my, we look a sight”

Phryne looked at him and giggled, “You’re right Jack, we do”. She stalked back towards him, as a lion might stalk its prey. Jack had plainly just suffered a small internal combustion, and it was obvious to Phryne that she was going to have to make him snap back into focus, in her own particular way. She stopped in front of him. 

Looking up at him, she moved her fingers to his waistcoat and deftly undid the remaining buttons. She slid the waistcoat off his shoulders, and along his arms, and offered the garment to him on two outstretched fingers. As he took it from her, Phryne took a step back. Tugging lightly at the bow of her blouse, she released the neck fastening, and in one smooth movement pulled the item over her head, revealing a silk camisole beneath. Jack stopped fiddling with his waistcoat and looked at her, his mouth gaping open slightly. His brain was trying for a witty remark, but the only thought which could coalesce in his mind was ‘oh god’. Phryne decided to stop teasing him. She took a step forward again, and lifted herself onto her tiptoes. She kissed Jack’s cheek lightly before whispering in his ear, 

“Jack. Clothes; off. Alarm clock; on. Bed; get in. I will be back, momentarily”. Phryne kissed Jack’s cheek again and slinked off to the side room.

Jack’s brain kicked back into gear, as Phryne removed herself from his immediate vicinity. He moved to the side of the room and sat on the scarlet coloured Chaise to remove his shoes and socks. He bundled each sock neatly into its respective shoe, and placed the shoes neatly on the floor, poking out from under the Chaise. He stood up and quickly slid his braces off his shoulders, and removed his shirt, folding the waistcoat and shirt neatly and pacing them on the chaise in a small pile. 

Jack moved over to the dressing table and tried to identify the alarm clock amongst the many items haphazardly scattered over the surface. Faced with a lack of anything obviously clock shaped he deduced that he was looking for a travel item. He started with the square cases. The first one contained a watch; the second earrings; the third a rather lovely brooch that he’d seen Phryne wearing sometimes. He moved on to round cases. The first contained a string of pearls; the second was just empty and looked like it would have been too thin to contain anything of much interest. Finally, on his next attempt, Jack located the alarm clock, and flipped it up to amend the setting. 

Through the crack in the door, Phryne observed Jack, now bare chested, no shoes or socks, just in his trousers, lightly but respectfully rummaging through her belongings. As she had suspected, he was very well developed across the back and shoulders. Phryne decided she rather liked the sight of him in her room, half-undressed. She turned her attentions back to her own activities. 

In the main room Jack placed the alarm clock lightly on the dressing table and moved round to the side of the bed. He experimentally pushed down on the bed. It bounced back under his fingers. He moved to the head of the bed and squeezed a pillow. It was plump and soft. Jack wondered idly if Phryne did sleep with her pistol under her pillow. He reached down to the middle of the pillows and gently pulled them up, a pile under each arm. What he saw took him by surprise, and for a second he couldn’t breathe. He bent over and ran his hand over the familiar item, and a shy smile broke over his face. He dropped the pillows quickly and straightened them up. Phryne, who was changing into her night clothes became aware of the quiet, and shouted out, “how are you doing in there Jack?”

Jack looked up at the door to the side room. “Erm, yes, fine, thank you”

“Have you found the alarm clock?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Jack was looking at the bed intently. 

Unseen by Jack, Phryne, now changed, moved so she could see through the crack in the door. She’d cleverly positioned the door so that she could see Jack, but he couldn’t see her. Not altering the pitch of her voice she called out. “And how are you doing with those clothes?”

Jack sighed lightly, “erm, yes, almost there”. He wiped his hand over his face and moved his fingers down to undo the buttons on his fly. He removed his trousers and placed them, again neatly folded, on to the top of the small pile on the chaise. Phryne smiled at him in the sight of his undershorts. They didn’t reveal as much leg as his bathing suit had, but still showed a pleasing amount of thigh. He returned to the bed and paused.

“Pick whichever side you prefer” said Phryne, still observing through the crack. 

Jack nodded to himself, silently choosing the side of the bed nearest the door. He tentatively lifted the bed cover. Sliding on to the sheets, he swung his legs up and wiggled his toes. He adjusted himself, reaching behind himself to adjust the pillows. He shrugged his shoulders, settling into the softness and warmth of the bed. It really was remarkably comfortable Jack observed. 

He looked around the room from this vantage point. The policeman in him noted all the quirks, the personal touches that conveyed Phryne’s personality. The nude of Phryne could be seen from here, and he looked at it for a moment. His memories of the fan dance at Madame Lyon’s gentleman’s club assured him that the artist had captured Phryne’s body with some finesse. He wondered what Phryne wore to bed; whether it was anything quite as daring as the thin garment draped over her in the picture; providing nowhere to hide from the viewer’s gaze. From her vantage point Phryne smiled at Jack, following his gaze to the picture. She decided to bring Jack back to the here and now. 

Phryne swung the door open and emerged into the main room. All Jack could see was the black silk robe she’d been wearing when she’d run out into the street last night. Was that only a day ago? Jack scanned the length of Phryne’s body. Phryne moved to the foot of the bed, leaning seductively against the dressing table, facing Jack.

“So, Jack, any questions?” Phryne locked eyes with him and popped one shoulder forward in a motion that made Jack felt like he was prey about to be devoured. Jack gulped.

“What are you wearing under there?” he asked, summoning up much more bravado than he was actually feeling, and gesturing towards the robe. Phryne’s teasing smile moved across her lips.

“What are you wearing under there?” she retorted, gesturing at the bedcover, wondering whether Jack would play along. 

Jack looked at Phryne, and decided to fight fire with fire. He moved his leg in an arcing motion, out from under the covers, exposing first his toes, and then his entire foot, quickly followed by his ankle and calf. 

“Would you like to see more?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he did. Phryne smiled and gave a slight nod of her forehead in Jack’s direction. He slid the bed cover up and revealed his undershorts, the lower part of his torso briefly exposed before he moved himself back under the covers. “Your turn?” he asked, and Phryne was sure she heard a little smoulder in the query. 

“Hmm, fair’s fair Jack”. She slipped the knot free and shucked the robe off, gathering it in one hand and sweeping it so it flew over to the Chaise and landed haphazardly on top of Jack’s neatly folded clothes. Phryne was a vision in close cut peach with black trimming. The material was thin and delicate but surprisingly conservative, for Phryne. Jack’s draw dropped, all current pretence at smoothness fading rapidly. 

“What is that?” he stammered.

“Nightwear, Jack”, Phryne stood up slightly.

“That, is not like any nightwear I have ever seen. Plainly things have changed since I last….” Jack stopped talking and met Phryne’s gaze. He looked down quickly. ‘Bugger’ he thought.

“Jack?” said Phryne, tentatively, wondering what the rest of his previous remark would have been.

“Phryne” said Jack, with such softness that Phryne could hardly hear him. Phryne made a potentially impetuous decision. 

“Jack. How long has it been, for you?”

Jack glanced at her briefly, his hands clutching the cover somewhat tightly. He looked away again. Phryne never took her eyes from him, and read guilt, nervousness, and, was that embarrassment? The differing emotions travelled across his face. Phryne moved round to the far side of the bed, and sat down on her side. She kneeled on the bed and prised one of Jack’s hands from its now vice like grip on the covers.

“Jack? You can tell me anything. And it won’t leave these four walls” she stroked his hand casually, trying to convey reassurance. 

Jack looked at Phryne, and decided that this might be the night when he really, truly, died of shame. He wondered how Phryne would explain the corpse. He had no doubt she’d handle it with her usual aplomb. He hoped she’d cry at his funeral. He decided to try an attempt at humour. 

“Well now, where are we, erm: Thursday; June; 1929” he made a face that attempted to convey that he was having to calculate the answer. He wasn’t. He knew exactly how long it had been. It was ridiculous, really. How such things could suddenly feel so important? He took a huge gulp and winced as he said, as nonchalantly as he could manage “about four years.”

Phryne was stunned. She tried not to show it. Jack didn’t kiss like a man who had been starved of affection for four years. He’d been keen, there was no denying it, but she’d assumed that was him finally allowing himself to pursue her. He had, now she knew this fact, been remarkably restrained. Phryne got frustrated if her bed remained empty for more than few weeks. A thought occurred to her.

“You’ve only been divorced six months”.

Jack looked guilty, again, and said, simply, “I may have, slightly, underplayed, exactly how long Rosie had been staying with her sister”

“Oh,” said Phryne, a wave of sympathy enveloping her. 

“Hmm. I’m guessing slightly more recently for you?” Jack wondered whether that question was too impertinent. 

“Well. Yes” Phryne realised there was really no getting away from the fact that she plainly had a lot more, and a lot more recent, experience than Jack did. She wasn’t about to hide that: ‘all of her’ he’d said downstairs, and this was a part of her she wouldn’t hide. She was discreet, and she wasn’t prepared to discuss specifics, but generally she felt the need to be honest with her lovers if they asked direct questions.

“Morgan Creek?” asked Jack, fairly convinced that there hadn’t been anyone since then. Of course, he couldn’t be entirely sure; it wasn’t as if he saw her every day when they didn’t have a case, but he was sure something had happened in the vineyards.

“How did you….?” Phryne was genuinely stunned. Jack smiled slightly, pleased with himself.

“I am a Detective. And I can, actually, notice clues without you having to help me. Some of the time at least.” Phryne looked at him. She’d been very subtle on that occasion, she thought. Dot hadn’t even known, and Dot knew about most of them. How on earth had Jack figured out her sex life to this extent? And how long had he been keeping notes? She released the hand she was still holding.

“Tell me how you knew!” she demanded. Jack smiled at her, taking his time to answer to see how much he could infuriate her.

“You said the ‘Wine’ had been crushed ‘mostly’ with your feet. It wasn’t a big leap” said Jack, pleased that he’d managed to draw the right conclusion. She’d had a glow about her as well, he recalled, and that had been added to his list of careful observations on the many moods of Phryne. 

“I thought I’d been subtle” Phryne sulked, honestly this man was infuriating, how could he be so perceptive about some things, and seemingly so completely clueless about other matters.

“Phryne, you are many things. Subtle is rarely one of them. You are always direct. Actually I like that” Jack smiled, and reached forward, lightly kissing Phryne on the lips, before sitting back down against the pillows.

Phryne laughed, a smile breaking across her face as she realised that Jack was remarkably relaxed about the whole occurrence, “I’ll bear that in mind. Next question?”

Jack considered the room, his eyes casually sweeping for the items that didn’t fit, his policeman’s skills coming to the fore. He knew he’d seen something odd before, and his memory scanned his path around the room quickly. The dressing table became his focus of attention.

“There’s a lot of, things, on your dressing table” said Jack, elongating the word ‘things’ as he spoke it. 

“I like pretty things” said Phryne, not sure what Jack was referring to.

“I was, looking for the alarm clock, and I wasn’t snooping…..” 

“Jack, if I didn’t trust you with my belongings, you wouldn’t even be here” said Phryne, still unsure where Jack’s thoughts were leading. It occurred to her that Jack had a very good interrogation technique. He appeared to be subconsciously applying it now.

“And just, all those little boxes have earrings, or watches, or jewellery….” Jack continued onwards, his deductive reasoning working through his earlier discoveries, leading him slowly to recall what had been unusual, “but there is one that is just empty. And it doesn’t look like you could get much in it anyway?” Jack’s deductions had reached the end of a no through road.

Phryne followed Jack’s gaze. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she spotted the item she thought he was referring to. She scooted herself down to the end of the bed and balanced herself off the edge, reaching for the round case. 

“This one?” she asked, holding the Bakelite in the tips of her spread fingers, turning to Jack to gauge his reaction.

“Yes.” replied Jack, his curiosity peaked that Phryne had picked the item correctly.

“Ah” said Phryne, playing with the case, moving it around in her hands.

“Ah?” responded Jack, now becoming both confused and intrigued. 

Phryne put the case back on the table and pushed herself fully back up on to the bed, kneeling down and making herself comfortable. ‘Always Direct’ Jack had said. Well, she thought, she would see how he would react now.

“You know how I feel Jack, about rules and laws I don’t like” she decided however to approach the topic slightly indirectly. 

“You wilfully ignore them and hang the consequences?” Jack had no clue as to the direction of their conversation.

“Hmm. Well, this isn’t so much, completely ignoring the rules, as bending them, ever so slightly” 

Jack looked at her, “and hang the consequences?” he was becoming more confused.

“Well, it’s consequences I’m avoiding, actually”.

Phryne stilled, watching the gears turning in Jack’s head. He didn’t seem to be moving to the conclusion Phryne needed him to reach. Directness it was then. Phryne coughed and spoke.

“The case, well. It’s for a diaphragm, Jack”. 

Jack blinked, repeatedly. How had his evening ended up like this? He’d come for supper. He’d thought he might, maybe, perhaps, kiss her goodnight gently at the end of the evening. He had not even considered that he would end the evening sitting, practically naked, in Phryne’s bed, discussing illicit contraception. 

“A diaphragm” he swallowed as he spoke.

“Yes. As much as I love Jane, I am also glad that she only came under my wing when she did. I was not joking when I said that I don’t do children”.

“Right” Jack’s throat had gone very dry. 

“A lady has to be prepared, Jack” Phryne reverted to flirting to try to lift the tension.

“Plainly” the fog threatening to engulf Jack’s brain suddenly cleared as the cogs in his mind whirred again, “But if the case is empty?” It was a question, a thought being spoken out loud.

“Yes?” replied Phryne, deciding she could have a little fun.

“Then, where’s the….” Jack looked at Phryne, who raised her eyebrows, and pinched her lips in amusement. She coquettishly cast a glance down her own body, before returning her gaze to meet Jack’s. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Jack, his jaw dropping slightly as the last piece of the jigsaw slotted into place.

“And a lady always lives in hope, Jack” said Phryne, practically purring at him.

“Oh” said Jack, the enormity of his thoughts only able to cope with such a small word. Curiosity and a constant desire for knowledge won out over any embarrassment Jack would usually feel. The lingering effects of the whiskey spurred on his courage also.

“So it’s, inside, you?” he asked, wanting to make sure he had absolutely understood Phryne’s meaning. This wasn’t a topic he had any knowledge about.

“Yes Jack” replied Phryne, wondering when Jack’s natural reserve would kick back in.

“Is that, safe? It just, well, being there?” a whole raft of questions floated down the stream Jack was metaphorically paddling in. 

“Yes, that’s sort of how it’s designed to work” said Phryne, stunned that Jack had moved straight past the point of the illegality of the arrangement. 

A dawning moment of realisation smacked Jack around the back of the head and kicked his brain back into full working order. No consequences. No consequences! They could make love and there was no risk of children. Jack’s heart lifted and his tension subsided.

“Right, good” he said, smiling at Phryne.

“Good?” Phryne was confused. She’d expected Jack to be uncomfortable with the topic, and mortified at the prospect of engaging, however tenuously, in unlawful activities. She had not expected a desire to know more, a concern for safety and what appeared to be a sense of relief. Was there more going on in Jack’s mind than she was currently privy to?

Jack paused. There was something about this room that made him want to tell Phryne all his innermost thoughts and feelings. The thought idly crossed his mind that the Victorian Constabulary might want to reconsider the décor in their Interview Rooms. Plainly you did trap more flies with honey than with vinegar.

“I’m fairly sure I don’t want children, either.” Jack’s bravery faltered, “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No Jack, it makes you honest”, Phryne shifted position, leaning forwards and moving up the bed to Jack. Phryne pressed her lips to Jack’s lightly before leaning back, “and thank you for telling me”. She swept her finger tips down Jack’s cheek. She was so pleased that he was accepting of her stance.

“You are remarkable” whispered Jack.

“Did Rosie want children?” Phryne decided to go for the blunt question. 

“Yes, she did. She was, very keen” Jack said, slightly painful memories surfacing in his mind.

“But it never happened” Phryne said.

“No. Thank God, given, well, everything” Jack paused, “There was a time when I was keen, too, but that was before….” His voice trailed off, the silence pierced with other, more painful memories.

“Before the War” finished Phryne, softly.

“Yes” Jack shuddered, and Phryne saw the sorrow cross his face. She moved next to him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her. She soothed a hand through his hair and around his shoulders, caressing him lightly. Phryne had seen things she never wanted to have to remember, but how much worse had it been for Jack, actually on the Front? 

Jack tentatively moved his arms until they engulfed Phryne, holding onto her as if she was the last solid point on earth. The War had changed him, broken him. The things he had seen. The sounds and sights and smells that he would recall at the oddest moments, with the most unlikely of triggers; the noise of a football as it hit a patch of mud; a shadow lingering behind a clump of trees in the park; the sulphurous after-burn of fireworks, had all, at one time or another sent his mind spiralling back to the horrors of the front. Rosie hadn’t wanted to know, had told him to buck up, to pull himself together if he ever recoiled from a loud noise or unexpected bang. Rosie had just wanted everything back to normal as soon as possible, and had either not known how to help Jack, or hadn’t cared to want to find out how to. Phryne was holding him now with such tenderness; not hurrying him on, not telling him it would all be better, and Jack felt his body go limp and surrender to the emotions he had held pent up for so long.

Phryne felt the judder of Jack’s body before she heard the sob; before she felt the trickle of a tear escaping from his eye and trickling down his cheek, onto her shoulder where he was pulled to her. Jack’s body convulsed as the sobs grew louder and the trickle of tears turned into a flood. 

Phryne held him slightly tighter, running her hands softly across his shoulders. No words were needed; no platitudes came forth from Phryne’s lips. Phryne knew not to tell Jack how to behave; knew that just holding him, just trying to comfort him was all that he needed; just to know that she was there for him. How long they remained there as Jack’s tears endured Phryne couldn’t say. How long it took was not important. No time scale could be put on trauma; Phryne knew that herself. 

Jack’s tears fell more slowly; his body relaxed as the tension that had risen up whilst he cried dissipated. His arms released their grip on Phryne. 

“Sorry,” Jack said in a barely audible whisper, pulling back slightly.

Phryne looked at Jack, and brought her hand round tenderly, pausing when she held his chin in her fingers. She looked directly into his eyes, “Jack, there is nothing to apologise for. As I said, you can tell me anything. Anything at all. Total honesty.”

Jack looked at her, and raised his hand to wipe it across his eyes. He reached out gently to Phryne, trailing his thumb down the side of her face. He pulled her to him, and kissed her cheek gently, “thank you” he whispered. 

“Jack”, Phryne breathed, finding her heart beat was skipping. Jack looked at her and was overwhelmed by the desire to kiss her once more. He leaned in and gently placed his lips on hers, each of them pausing to savour the contact. Phryne was overwhelmed by the intensity Jack was managing to convey in this simple action, and found herself pulling Jack gently towards her. She wound her arm around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. 

These gentle kisses continued until Jack suddenly found his desire flaring. Jack pressed Phryne closer to him and deepened the kiss. Phryne responded with restrained enthusiasm. Jack swung himself forward, pulling his legs under him as he went, until he had tipped Phryne back to lie gently on the bed. She scooted her legs round and Jack adjusted himself, gently resting his weight on her. They had moved in such a way that Phryne’s bedcovers were between them, but they were pressed tightly against each other, able to feel each other pressed up against them. Jack was still tenderly kissing Phryne, neither of them wishing to dominate. They caressed each other, running their fingers, hands and arms up, down, around and along any part of the other they could reach. Long, sensuous, slow kisses that threatened to ignite a fire within them. Eventually they parted, and Phryne ran her hand around Jack’s face.

“Jack. How do you feel? Honestly”

Jack looked at her, and collapsed his weight on to Phryne slightly, “I am honestly, bone tired. I feel I could sleep for a full day and night”

“Then we should go to sleep, Jack. Plenty of time for everything else”

“Oh” Jack was suddenly exhausted. He wanted to make love with Phryne, but he was so tired, and it was now so late, and he felt there was hesitancy, just lingering deep within Phryne, which he could somehow sense.

“There’s no hurry, Jack. We’re a waltz, are we not?” Phryne lightly kissed his jaw.

“Slow and close” replied Jack, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“We are. Time to sleep, Jack” said Phryne. Jack pushed one more kiss to her lips, before gently pushing himself off her, and returning to his previous position. Phryne crawled in under the covers, and snuggled up to Jack, pulling him to her. He wrapped his arms around her, as she curled up against his side. Phryne reached over the top of him, flicking the bedside lamp off, the room descending into darkness. 

“Good night, Jack” murmured Phryne, pressing a loving kiss to his temple.

“Good night, Phryne” replied Jack, reaching forward to kiss her nose.

Silence fell in the room. Jack heard Phryne’s breathing slow, as his grew calmer. 

He felt himself drifting slowly towards sleep. As he tumbled towards a world of dreaming, his mind was filled with images of Phryne; how they had got to where they now were. He hazily recalled an earlier discovery.

“Phryne?” asked Jack, sleepily and with a yawn.

“Yes Jack” replied Phryne, almost asleep herself.

“Why is my football scarf underneath your pillow?”

“Oh, Jack” whispered Phryne, and Jack needed to hear no more. He smiled, sweet and true, as he fell into a deep and relaxing sleep.


End file.
